Thanks Jerame for the picture.
This is what I supposed Will's view of me on stage was. He stood in the back and played the bass, for those that do not know much about music, the bass is the most influential, unrecognizable instrument. You feel it, and it makes the most profound difference, yet it's notes are hard for the untrained ear to distinguish. That was Will in a nutshell. He stood back there playing the things that moved you without the glory of kicks and screams. He sang back-up vocals and unless you were really listening, you would have no idea...because I am so loud and he was so often quiet. He took the back seat in most situations, choosing meekness over domination. I always admired him for that. While I beamed with confidence, he stood unsure of himself, wondering what he could say that anyone wanted to hear.
Now I can say nothing of honest appearance. My actions and vibrato do not show what is really going on. It has been almost nine months since I sat in that car with Joe and watched suited men wheel my brother to a van and put him in, and nothing has dulled. Sharp pains run through me at moments I do not expect them. Memories flood back and make mince meat of my concentration. And now it creeps closer to Christmas. This is a day that I have no idea how to function in. I have to be joyful in affect for my family. They MUST have wonderful memories of Christmas, yet I feel like I have been stabbed in my stomach every time I think of those horrible lights and that Christmas tree.
Before you get mad and lecture me...I know Christmas is about Christ. I know that Jesus saved my friend into eternity. I know I should celebrate because of the coming of the Messiah into the world. I WILL do all of those things, but I am not sure I can do that without mourning.
I get weary of being the clown.
Sing.
Migrate.
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